


Different, Not Less

by AlineRusu



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Autism, Autistic Julian Bashir, Autistic Meltdown, Bathing/Washing, Comforting Elim Garak, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Gen, Hurt Julian Bashir, Hurt/Comfort, Julian Bashir needs a hug, M/M, POV Julian Bashir, Richard Bashir's A+ Parenting, Self-Harm, Self-Injurious Stims, Sort Of, Stimming, Temple Grandin, author is autistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29751630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlineRusu/pseuds/AlineRusu
Summary: "“Are you quite all right? This is the third time you’ve gotten ‘distracted’ during our lunch. Don’t tell me I’m boring you!” Garak smiled faintly, knowing this wasn’t the case.“Of course not, Garak. I’m sorry, I’m just feeling rather tired this afternoon.” Julian smiled at his friend. This time it was somewhat of a false smile. Not completely, he really did enjoy the other’s company, but he didn’t really feel like smiling."Julian is autistic and has a meltdown for no apparent reason.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 25
Kudos: 73





	Different, Not Less

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyy so apparently I just write things when I need help coping with something. Sooooooo yeah.  
> I've been having a hell of a time with autism and meltdowns recently, and yesterday I had a very self-injurious meltdown for no apparent reason. So I'm making one of my favorite characters deal with it. Also, today wasn't much better, so I didn't really do much proofreading, sorry.  
> Stims, especially self-injurious stims are, at least for me, almost entirely out of the person's control. It's really terrifying when your body acts seemingly of its own accord without any concious input. 
> 
> Also, just an FYI, Dr. Temple Grandin's quotes, especially the one in this fic, are often used by Auti$m $peaks. I do not support them in any way, shape, or form. They are a hate group that thinks we are broken and need to be fixed. I just like the quote, and I like Dr. Temple Grandin.
> 
> TW: Autistic Meltdown, Self-Injurious Stims

Gazing at the stars outside his window, Julian smiled. Not the fake smile he wore for outings with acquaintances, nor the reassuring one he used with patients; not even the massive grin he got when he was excited about something. This was just a small, contented smile. He was happy today. He hadn’t been completely happy in quite a while. His parents had come and revealed his Secret, and while his father was now in prison and he had to play darts from farther away, nothing else had really changed. He still had his friends, his job, his hobbies, and best of all, his freedom.

Five hours later, he and Garak were sitting at their usual table discussing literature over lunch. Today it was the ancient Earth poem Gilgamesh, honestly not one of Julian’s favorites, but he thought Garak would appreciate it. At the very least, it was good argument material.

“But my dear Doctor, you don’t honestly expect me to believe that, do you?” Garak gasped in mock horror as he spoke.

Julian just looked at the Cardassian sitting across the table from him for a moment before continuing. “Before Enkidu, Gilgamesh was a terrible person, beating up the men and raping the women of his city. I’d sure count that behavior as making him unfit to rule.” He looked down into his cup of Tarkalean tea, ignoring the small plate of food in front of him. He wasn’t really hungry this afternoon.

“-dn’t you say so, my dear?” There was a pause. “Doctor Bashir?”

Julian twitched and looked up at his companion, meeting his eyes. “Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, I must have gotten distracted for a moment. What were you saying?”

“Are you quite all right? This is the third time you’ve gotten ‘distracted’ during our lunch. Don’t tell me I’m boring you!” Garak smiled faintly, knowing this wasn’t the case.

“Of course not, Garak. I’m sorry, I’m just feeling rather tired this afternoon.” Julian smiled at his friend. This time it was somewhat of a false smile. Not completely, he really did enjoy the other’s company, but he didn’t really feel like smiling. He took a final sip of his tea and stood. “I should be getting back to the Infirmary anyway. Same time next week?”

Garak looked hard at Julian, as though he was trying to read his thoughts. “Of course.” He stood, bowed ever so slightly, and took his leave.

Julian let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Damn. He really was tired if he was getting stressed by lunch with Garak. He put his mug back into the replicator and headed back to the Infirmary, fingers clenching at his sides.

The rest of the day was uneventful. There were no medical emergencies, no major injuries, no disagreeable patients. The biggest thing to come across his biobed was Miles with yet another dislocated shoulder. Honestly, that man was a menace to his own body.

Over the course of the afternoon, Julian noticed he was stimming more than usual. Not in a bad way, just an increase in frequency. He had to stop himself from pulling on the cuffs of his uniform. The last time he’d done this he’d stretched out the sleeves so much that he’d needed to take the top to Garak for alterations. (Yes, he knew he could just replicate a new one, but he liked this one. Even if they were ostensibly identical, this one was just… right.) If he brought it in again so soon, he’d never hear the end of it. Instead, he rubbed his fingers along the lightly ribbed fabric on the shoulders of the new uniforms, and when he thought no one was looking, he flapped his hands for a moment or two.

Finally, the shift was over. As he walked back to his quarters, he occasionally raised to walk on his toes.

“More stimming,” he muttered to himself. “More. More. More, more, more. Wonder why?” He wasn’t feeling particularly distressed. Nothing was overwhelming him. It had been a pretty good day by all accounts. How odd.

He grabbed supper from the replicator along with another cup of tea and settled down on his sofa with a PADD for some evening reading.

At some point, he realized his tea was cold, his dinner lay uneaten on his coffee table, and he hadn’t absorbed a thing of what he was trying to read. His head twitched to the side, sparking the odd sort of negative-pressure feeling in his chest that denoted a need for some sort of stimulation. He tugged on the cuffs of his shirt a few times before stopping himself again, then began to flap rather violently.

Suddenly, he needed more. He felt his heart rate spike and his breathing become irregular and rapid. His head twitched, body rocking back and forth as he tried to maintain control. He curled in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his torso, hugging himself as tightly as he could. He was no longer in control of his body. He felt a twinge of pain and noticed he was biting the back of his right hand, hard. He stopped, only to start biting again about an inch to the left.

At that moment, the door buzzed, sending Julian deeper into the miasma of unidentifiable emotion currently swirling through his body. He bit down harder and a sound, somewhere between a whimper and scream, escaped his throat as he began rocking back and forth, eyes squeezed shut against the outside world.

The door whooshed open after a moment or two. Julian didn’t notice. He was too deep into himself to notice much of anything at this point. His hands came up and began smacking his head hard enough to hurt, a miserable hum working its way from his lips.

A pair of hands grasped his wrists and he struggled to get free, to keep the feelings from overpowering him.

“Doctor, you must stop this,” a distant but familiar voice sounded near him.

Julian’s eyes snapped open to reveal a broad torso covered in eclectic fabric. “Garak,” he gasped. What was he doing here?

The Cardassian took the moment’s distraction to pull the doctor’s hands down and away from his head. Immediately Julian once again wrapped himself in as tight a hug as possible, digging his relatively blunt fingernails into his triceps. He was still rocking and the sound coming from his mouth was verging on a wail.

For a moment, Garak seemed at a bit of a loss. Then, with more care than Julian thought the man possessed, he sat down and gathered the doctor into his arms, holding him tightly.

The sudden addition of pressure startled Julian into lessening his own grasp. He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, before his hands slid upwards and began scratching painfully at the exposed skin of his neck.

Garak once again brought his own hands to Julian’s, this time holding them tightly in his own.

“Doctor.” He shook his head and started again. “ _Julian_. You must not continue. You are injuring yourself.”

The use of his first name startled Julian once again into looking up at Garak’s face. He didn’t meet his eyes, but he could tell the man was concerned. He tried to get his body to relax, with little success. He focused for a moment before attempting speech.

“C-can’t help it. ‘M no-ot in control.” Everything in his quarters seemed vaguely like it was swimming, so he buried his face in the crook of Garak’s neck, forehead resting just under the neck ridge. He soon discovered that the odd combination of skin and scales wasn’t nearly as repulsive as human skin and he tried to nuzzle deeper into the interesting texture.

“Oh? Not in control, you say?” chuckled the tailor. “So it isn’t by choice that you are currently attempting to burrow your way into my shoulder?”

Julian just huffed lightly at this and tried to keep his head from jerking at random intervals.

They sat like this for a while. Julian’s internal clock, usually so accurate, was apparently out of commission, so he didn’t know exactly how long. After a time, Garak pulled back allowing Julian more freedom of movement. The doctor’s heart rate, which had quieted some in his friend’s strong embrace, began to pick up again and he quickly wrapped himself in yet another tight hug, squeezing hard.

The Cardassian beside him looked him over inquisitively before sighing and pulling him in again. “Does this help, my dear?”

Julian nodded.

“What else helps?”

The doctor thought for a moment before answering, voice slow and slightly slurred. “Pressure helps. Warm things. Soft things. Water sometimes.”

It was Garak’s turn to nod. “And what do you do to provide yourself with such sensations?” he inquired.

“Mm, dunno. Bath sometimes.”

“Well then, shall we?” Garak stood, taking Julian with him.

This was, apparently, a mistake because the sudden change in position sent Julian into a frenzy of head shaking and odd movements of his legs that, under other circumstances, could have been mistaken for a dance.

The tailor cursed softly and lifted the doctor into his arms, bridal style. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I should have anticipated that reaction to such a sudden movement.”

The doctor quivered in his friend’s arms, eyes shut tight and hands pulling hard on his dark hair.

He opened his eyes as he felt himself being gently set down on something hard and solid. They were in his bathroom, (one of the few on the station with an actual bathtub) and Garak was kneeling in front of him, looking as though he was trying to decide what to do next.

“Computer, lights to 40 percent,” said the tailor.

Immediately, some of the tension drained away from Julian’s shoulders. He hadn’t noticed how much the light was bothering him.

“Come now, Julian. Let’s get these things off of you.” Grey hands reached up and made the doctor release his hands from the death-grip they had on his hair, then helped slide off the uniform jacket.

Next came the shirt, then the trousers. Julian had the wherewithal to stop Garak at his boxers, not feeling particularly like being completely in the nude in front of his friend. The tailor nodded, then turned to the bathtub and turned on the hot water. The small room was quickly filled with steam, causing Garak to sigh in delight before he turned back to Julian who by this time had his arms wrapped around himself and his fingers digging into his sides, though not as painfully as before.

Garak reached a hand out to Julian who took it and used it to steady himself as he walked the short distance from the toilet where he had been sitting to the tub. As he climbed in, settling into the warmth and weight of the water, he heaved a shuddering sigh. He didn’t realize until he felt a light tug that he had yet to release Garak’s hand. He didn’t really want to. The contact was grounding. Instead of letting go he gripped slightly harder and tugged.

Thankfully, the other man took the hint and sat down on the floor outside the bathtub, gently but firmly rubbing his thumb along the back of Julian’s hand.

After a while, (Julian thought it was probably about forty minutes), the doctor looked over at his Cardassian companion and blinked several times before speaking.

“I think I’m okay now. The water’s getting cold.”

Garak nodded and squeezed Julian’s hand. “Would you like me to fetch you some dry clothes?”

Julian blushed, and nodded. “There are some sweaters in the closet and trousers in the second drawer on the left.”

His companion nodded, released Julian’s hand, then stood somewhat stiffly and retreated from the bathroom.

Julian felt a bit guilty, seeing how sitting on the floor for so long had hurt his friend. He stood and grabbed a towel, beginning to dry himself off. Thankfully he hadn’t gotten his hair wet. He hated the feeling of wet hair on his skin, even if it was his own. As he ran the towel over his water-wrinkled brown skin he noticed bite marks on his hands that were starting to bruise and red scratches across his upper arms and neck. He sighed.

Garak returned with the requested clothes: a cozy grey sweater that sat heavily on Julian’s shoulders and a pair of comfortable black trousers, along with a fresh pair of underpants. For once, the tailor did not criticize Julian’s choice in color palette and instead just setting the clothing gently on the counter and once again leaving the bathroom.

Julian thought about how he was going to explain this whole thing to Garak. On a purely factual level, the Cardassian was aware of his autism. It wasn’t a secret, but he didn’t exactly go around advertising it either. He dressed as quickly as his sluggish body would allow and went back into his bedroom.

He had expected Garak to be in the living room, or perhaps even to have left, but instead Julian found he tailor sitting somewhat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. He sat down next to the man, gently leaning into his side.

Garak seemed surprised at the contact, though not opposed. He carefully wrapped an arm around the doctor, looking him up and down as if checking for injuries.

“I’m okay, Garak. Really.”

“Elim.”

“Hm?”

“Call me Elim. I called you Julian. It’s only fair.”

Julian blinked at this. Their relationship had been growing steadily closer ever since their return from Internment Camp 371, but to be honest he wasn’t sure Garak, _Elim_ , would ever let him use his first name. He nodded.

“All right then. Elim. I’m okay now. You don’t have to worry.”

Garak didn’t rebut him by saying he wasn’t worrying, which surprised Julian almost as much as the first name thing. Instead, the Cardassian just looked at Julian with some unidentifiable emotion showing in his eyes.

“It just happens sometimes,” he admitted. “Sometimes more often than I’d like.”

Garak nodded. “And what causes these… episodes?”

“They’re called meltdowns. It’s part of being autistic, needing the right kind of stimulation in the right amounts. This one was particularly bad. I don’t usually have very many self-injurious stims.” He pulled away from Elim and looked down, slightly ashamed. He knew he couldn’t help having meltdowns but he still felt somewhat responsible for taking up Garak’s time and acting ‘like a child,’ as some others would say.

Garak leaned back to get a better look at the doctor, questions in his eyes.

“Go ahead,” said Julian. “You can ask. I know you have questions.”

It was Garak’s turn to blink. “Very well. First, how come your… alterations did not eliminate it? I believe you said at one point that autism is a genetic disorder?”

Julian sighed. This was going to be a long night. “Yeah, my parents asked that question a lot, too. Not every genetic augmentation goes exactly as planned. In fact, most don’t. I’m lucky that it didn’t do something to me that would preclude me from functioning in society at all. I was autistic before the augmentation, and I’m autistic after. They made lots of things ‘better,’ but they didn’t manage to eliminate those particular genes. In fact, it’s actually harder to deal with now than it might have been without the augmentations. Sensory overload is… so much worse when you have superhuman senses.” He shuddered, remembering.

Garak nodded, but didn’t speak for a moment or two. Eventually, he asked another question. “And why do you look as though you feel you have failed at some important task?”

“Because I feel like I did. I know it’s not my fault. I know it’s just a part of me like anything else, but my parents, my teachers, every adult in my life before I joined Starfleet told me that I shouldn’t ‘behave like a child,’ when I would have a meltdown or shutdown.”

At Garak’s inquisitive look, he clarified. “A shutdown is sort of like a meltdown, but instead of turning outward, I turn inward. Go non-verbal, sit in unmoving silence for minutes or hours. Anyway, even though I’ve been away from them for over a decade, it’s hard to fight what was ingrained into you as a child. ‘Don’t squirm, Jules. Don’t fidget. You can’t bring Kukalala everywhere with you, Julian, you’re not a toddler. Don’t waste our time with your antics. Stop behaving so poorly.’” To his utter horror, Julian felt tears slipping down his face.

To his credit, Garak did not speak right away. Instead, he reached over and gently wiped the tears from the doctor’s flushed cheeks. He then slowly pulled Julian to his chest, hugging him firmly.

“Never be ashamed of your difficulties. You taught me that in the camp. No, don’t look at me like that. Even if I don’t exactly ‘practice what you preach,’ I believe is the Terran phrase, it doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Julian had indeed turned his head to look at Garak incredulously. He turned it back so he could feel the cool scales-skin on his cheek and inhaled deeply, the warm, slightly spicy scent of his friend calming him further.

Eventually, Garak spoke again. “Final question, for the moment. What would you like to do now?”

Julian took a deep breath before looking up into Garak’s face. “Right now, Elim, I want you to kiss me, and then I want to lay here and cuddle with you until I fall asleep.”

Garak looked slightly taken aback at the abruptness of the proposal, but his expression quickly changed to something sweeter.

“My dear Julian, there is nothing I would rather do.” He leaned down and slowly, carefully, placed his lips against Julian’s.

Julian’s eyes fluttered closed as he leaned into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his friend’s (partner’s?) lips. It was a chaste kiss, neither pushing to deepen it, but it was blissful. As Garak pulled away, Julian opened his eyes to a slightly flustered Cardassian with blue tinted cheeks.

“Elim, are you _blushing_?” he asked with curiosity. “I didn’t even know Cardassians _could_ blush.”

Garak’s face turned an even slightly darker blue. “I believe it is a fairly normal response to kissing someone for the first time, is it not?”

Julian nodded, then tugged Garak down to lay on the bed. “It is. Now, if you are amenable, may we get on to the second portion of my request?”

Garak rolled them over so that his his front was laying against Julian’s back, and hugged the doctor to his chest. “Is this position comfortable for you, my dear?”

Julian just nodded and mumbled incoherently, the pressure of Garak’s arms wrapped around him and leg draped across him making his head fuzzy with a calm sort of pleasure.

Garak smiled into Julian’s hair, then pulled the blankets up over the both of them. “Computer, lights out.”

* * *

The next morning, Julian woke to an empty bed, a face that still wouldn’t emote properly, and a clock that said it was long past the beginning of his shift. Before he could panic, he remembered Garak convincing him to call in sick today to recover. Sighing in relief, he heard a beep from his personal computer. He walked over to his desk, still slightly bleary, and sat down to read to the message.

_My dearest Julian,_

_I am sorry I had to leave before you woke, but I have an appointment at my shop I really must keep. I promise I will return before lunchtime and we can continue our discussion from last night._

_As it is, I decided to do some reading last night while you were asleep. (Before you scold me, I did get enough rest, you just fell asleep very early.) In my reading I stumbled across a human woman who had autism in the mid-20th Earth century. She helped shape the world of autism treatment and acceptance and I believe you would appreciate much of her writing._

_Therefore, I will leave you with one of her more famous quotes, and I hope you will take it to heart._

_“I am different, not less.”_

_\- Dr. Temple Grandin_

_All my love,_

_Elim_

As Julian closed the message, he smiled. It was not a false smile, nor was it a grin. It wasn’t even a simple contented smile. No, this smile was different. Different because he was still struggling after the night before. Because he still couldn’t quite make his face cooperate with socially acceptable expressions. But that didn’t make the smile inferior. It was just like him.

Different, not less.


End file.
